


A Song to Cheer You

by Cinaed



Category: Rómeó és Júlia (Színház)
Genre: Birthday Presents, Dysfunctional Family, Foreshadowing, Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-27
Updated: 2015-10-27
Packaged: 2018-04-28 12:12:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5090249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinaed/pseuds/Cinaed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For her twelfth birthday, Júlia received two gifts from her mother: a songbird and a dagger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Song to Cheer You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sophia_sol](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophia_sol/gifts).



> This is for sophia_sol, who asked for Júlia and her parents. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Thanks goes out to car for encouraging me about the fic and missm for reading it over for me. The lullaby Nurse sings is an Italian one, but I have no idea how old it is.

For her twelfth birthday, Júlia received two gifts from her mother: a songbird and a dagger.

“A song to cheer you, and a blade to keep you safe,” her mother explained. Her smile soured. A familiar fury sharpened her words. “No decent woman is safe while those Montague dogs walk the streets.” She offered the blade, hilt first, to Júlia.

When Júlia took it, the metal was cold enough to bite, and heavier than she thought. She nearly dropped it. Her mother’s look was expectant, and Júlia found that she didn’t have the heart to say that she couldn’t imagine wielding it, not even to defend herself. Somehow she summoned a convincing smile to her lips. “Thank you,” she said, She sheathed the blade carefully, relieved when it was hidden from view and even more relieved when Nurse, frowning down at the dagger, carried it away. Then Júlia turned to the cage. The gold paint was smooth beneath her fingertips.

Inside the cage, the songbird was silent. One bright eye looked out at Júlia.

Her mother frowned. She tapped a lacquered nail against the metal, and though it chimed like the beginning of a melody, the bird still didn't stir. “If it will not sing, tell me and I shall get you another.” Then she smiled and touched Júlia’s cheek. There was a look in her eyes now that Júlia couldn’t read. “Twelve years old. How strange! It seems only yesterday that you were a babe who could fit in my arms.”

“I still can!” Júlia said, and without warning threw herself forward.

“Júlia!” her mother cried, but her arms went around her, catching her clumsily. She shook her head, trying to look stern. “What would you have done if I had dropped you? I have not your nurse's girth.” 

Júlia stayed there for a moment, pillowing her cheek against her mother’s shoulder. Her mother smelled of powder and perfume, and Júlia breathed the scents in. “I would’ve fallen, I suppose,” she said, and felt her mother’s laughter vibrate through her. “And see? I still fit!”

“So you do,” her mother said, and pressed a kiss to her forehead. It was a strange kiss, her mother's mouth too hard against her brow, and it lingered like a bruise. Softly, her mother added, “Still a child then. I think we have another year or two yet before you begin to dream of marriage.”

“Marriage!” Júlia said. The same unease that had filled her at the sight of the dagger touched her now. When she thought of marriage, she thought of her parents, loving to her but practically strangers with each other. She didn't want to marry anyone, if that was what it was like. She turned her head a little to see what Nurse thought of this strange fancy.

But Nurse nodded in agreement, smiling as she said, “Another year or two, I think, my lady. Then all we will hear from her are the words husband and marriage!” She laughed, a deep, amused sound that made Júlia smile despite her unease. 

“Not so soon as that,” came an unexpected voice, and Júlia slipped free of her mother's arms to run to her father. He too embraced her, spinning her around before lowering her carefully to the floor. The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled, but his voice was earnest. “Pay no heed to them, Júlia. You are a child now, and in two years time you will still be a child. Talk of marriage can wait.”

“She won't stay a child just because you wish it so,” her mother said, and Júlia's heart sank a little at the edge in her voice, a blade half-bared. She'd dared to hope that her parents would be nice at least for the day.

Before her father could answer, Nurse spoke up in that hearty tone she used whenever she meant to distract Júlia's parents from their brewing argument. “Indeed, we cannot stop time. Would that we could!” When Júlia looked at her, Nurse smiled reassuringly. If her parents hadn't been watching as well, she was certain Nurse would have winked. “Júlia, are you ready for whatever surprise Cook has baked this year?”

“Oh yes,” Júlia said, and grew steadier beneath Nurse's affectionate look. Her stomach pinched at her, and her mouth watered at the thought of last year's surprise, a sweet sugary tower that had tasted like heaven.

Her father pressed a kiss to her forehead and stepped back, bowing and offering Júlia his arm as she giggled. “Shall we?” Lowering his voice, he whispered, “I have a gift or two for you, but they will keep until after breakfast.” 

“Yes,” Júlia said, and slipped her arm in his, leaving behind all thoughts of her mother's strange gifts.    

 

* * *

 

The songbird didn’t sing.

Júlia fed it fruits and seeds. At Nurse's suggestion, she moved the cage to the window beside her balcony, where it could see the sky and feel the warm sunlight. She even sang to it all the songs that she knew, the solemn church hymns and the lighthearted or melancholy airs she sometimes heard on the streets, until her voice grew hoarse and Nurse fussed, pouring a honey remedy down her throat and telling her to rest.

Still the bird was silent.

“Some birds cannot live in cages,” her father said when she told him. “Their loss of freedom is more than they can bear.”

Her mother, expressionless, said, “That bird was born in a cage and bred to entertain. How can it miss something it never had?” She turned to Júlia. Her look softened. “Shall I buy you another one, my dear?” 

“No, I'll try something else,” Júlia said, and retreated even as her father said something low that made her mother frown.

She took the cage outside, onto the balcony. When she knelt before it, the stone was hard against her knees even through her dress. “What will make you sing?” she whispered, but now the bird answered, stirring and lifting its head as a clean wind swept over the balcony and stirred the bird's feathers. It chirped, the first sound Júlia had ever heard from it.

She remembered her father's words about freedom. When she went to open the cage door, she fumbled with the latch, for it had always been Nurse who had cleaned the cage. Júlia had never dared to even touch the little door. At last she succeeded.

For a long moment the songbird only looked at the opening. Then with another chirp, this one sounding almost like a question, it hopped to the entrance, clutching the metal with tiny claws. In the sunlight its feathers shone more golden than the gilt upon the cage.

Júlia held her breath, not daring to move. She watched the bird lift its head a little, feeling the wind. Then with a sudden wild flutter of its wings, the bird flew, spiraling up into the sky and then circling down to land upon the very edge of the garden wall below, nearly out of Júlia's sight. She leaned over the railing, laughing, for now the bird made all manner of sound, joyous notes filling the air as though it sang a song of celebration. She tried to sing along, for all that her throat still hurt from before, but the bird out-sang her. She laughed again.

She was still laughing when she saw the cat creeping along the wall. Her blood turned cold. “No!” she cried out, but she was too far away. Still, perhaps the bird heard her, for in the very moment the cat leaped, the bird flew.

The cat and the songbird disappeared over the wall.

Júlia leaned over the railing, straining to see, and cried out again as strong hands dragged her back. She knew this embrace better than she knew her mother's or father's, but still she struggled a moment against Nurse's grip.

“Have you lost your wits, child?” Nurse demanded. When Júlia faced her she found Nurse's complexion so white that for a moment Júlia feared she would collapse. “I' God's name, you might've fallen and broken your neck!”

“The bird,” Júlia said, and the rest of her explanation was lost in a frustrated sob as Nurse spied the empty cage and said, “So the little fellow escaped? There's no harm done, my dear! We'll get you another one.”

“No,” Júlia whispered. She turned, but there was no sign of the songbird. She tried to take comfort that the cat had not returned to the garden, prize in its mouth, but still she feared the bird's fate. Had its freedom been so brief? Or was it even now flying to some place of safety? Uncertainty weighed upon her like a stone. She blinked away tears. Somehow she managed to say, “No, I-I don't want another one, please.”

Nurse was silent for a long moment, and then her arms went around Júlia more gently than before. She cradled Júlia, humming a lullaby Júlia hadn't heard since she was very young and constantly in tears over her parents' sharp-tongued fights.

When Júlia could finally catch her breath, Nurse said, “Don't feel badly, child. It was only a bird that didn't sing. Though I warrant that a song-less bird is still a better gift than that dagger!” She snorted. “A song to cheer you and a blade to keep you safe. As though you weren't as likely to cut yourself upon the dagger instead! Fear not, I've put it where it can harm no one. If your mother asks, I shall tell her that you keep it beneath your skirts, a dagger to ward off men's blades.” Nurse laughed, her eyes bright with mischief as though she'd made some jest that Júlia should understand.

Júlia tried to smile. “If Mother asks me, I will say the same,” she promised. She took a deep breath. Slowly the horror of watching the cat lunge lessened, enough that she could smile and say, “I haven't heard that lullaby in a long time. Will you sing it again?”

“Of course!” said Nurse, looking pleased, and Júlia leaned against her as she sang softly, “Nanna, nanna, this child neither sleeps nor rests, and doesn't sleep unless she is sung to....” 


End file.
